


theta

by awaywiththebandits



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, M/M, Stress, and sad, i dont really know what to tag it as, its vague, sorry it was like 1am and im stressed about work so i vented?, they hold hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awaywiththebandits/pseuds/awaywiththebandits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm scared"</p><p>Pete breathes, pulling Mikey from his trance. Brown eyes meet brown, and it's placid. Sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	theta

He runs fingers over knuckles, smooth and steady like lapping tides. Feels the bones at the rise of each ridge and and then follows the slope to settle into each dip, allowing himself to conquer and be bracketed rhythmically. He lingers at each valley, the skin there is soft compared to the rough fingertips brushing against his own hand. 

"I'm scared"

Pete breathes, pulling Mikey from his trance. Brown eyes meet brown, and it's placid. Sad. "I love you." Mikey whispers, never stopping the constant movement of his thumb over the other mans hand that he holds in his own. It's desperate. Anchoring. Broken. Every thing he knows Pete needs and nothing Pete wants. He knows what Pete wants. Pete wants isolation, faded fluorescence and pale walls and not a care in the world. He wants to tune out signals and forget about the spinning hour hand. He wants to float and adjust to constant haze.

Pete wants to be numb, just for a while. "I cant breathe. It's too much." The words catch, choke and gag him. They crush his airways and overwhelm him and it's as if his teenaged years of strife and desperation are copying themselves over and over again, finding new home in a man twice the age. Mikey reads the signs, he's lived the phases, he knows.

There are tracks down Pete's cheeks, tangled beyond comprehension, smeared and blurred. Mikey wants to kiss them away-would, if it weren't for the fact that he knew that that skin would give way to chasms of pain and distress. So he lets the tears fall onto backs of his hand, watching the light simmer through them, splaying fractures of the moon onto tired wrists.

But still he runs his thumb over those knuckles. Those knuckles that are turning white. Those knuckles that are quaking. Those knuckles that are clasped tight. And he glides over the taught skin, dragging like toes in the sand and raindrops down windscreens, bumping like record players and roller-skates, silent like air waves and spinning planets.

And they go on.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for venting i am stress


End file.
